The point is, these bitches are in the 10 items or less line with a cart filled with groceries. Of course I am instantly annoyed, as my guests were going to be arriving any minute now and it’s taking forever for the guy to ring everything up. Yeah sure I could have grabbed the wine earlier, but I’m a procrastinator, what of it? Still, I manage to maintain my cool, cuz I’m cool like that [I’m also chill like that, and peace like that].
Then, after he had finished scanning everything, little Koozie Kardashian whips out a book of WIC stamps! So then cashier has to go through the tedious process of removing all the wine and cigarettes off their tally. Now I’m pissed, as it’s been twenty minutes and I’m starting to get nasty text messages from Martha Stewart [she can be so impatient!]. I start throwing mad shapes in the direction of the sisters [after all, my scowl can kill a bitch dead, watch out!]. Then I notice the other Karshashian slut trying to pull a fast one as she carefully maneuvers their cart around to the end of the checkout so that the cashier doesn’t see the stacks of bottled water they have stashed underneath.
Koozie doles out a stack of WIC tickets and then pulls out massive roll of cash to pay for their booze and cigarettes and they are getting ready to walk out when I all to the cashier.
“Excuse me,” I say as I point at their shopping cart. “Don’t forget to ring up their water.” At which point both the bitches whip their gaze in my direction, their faces contorted into hideously grotesque sneers [it wasn’t really much different from how they look anyway, so its pretty easy to picture].
“Somebody need to be minding her own bin'ess,” the whore one said, well, not the one whore one, but the other… confusing, I know… but then her eyes begin to glow red and she starts shooting fireballs from her eyes! I dive out of the way just in the nick of time and counter attack by hurling my jug of Carlo Rossi straight at her head!
Needless to say, I got mad skills, as the jug cracked her head open and roaches started pouring out as the shell of her body collapsed to the floor. I looked around for the other one just in time to see her running out the door pushing her cart filled with stolen water. She’ll have to wait for another day, after all, I had empanadas to heat up.
“Thanks for your help, Frau,” the cashier says, with a bit of a swoon.
“Anytime, cutie,” I reply with a wink, then we went into the back room and snogged on a palette of Purina. Martha was mad that I was an hour late, but she loved my empanadas so much, she forgot all about it!
